


The League of Red-Shirted Gentlemen

by MrProphet



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 14:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	The League of Red-Shirted Gentlemen

Sara Peters fidgetted awkwardly in her chair, facing the heavyset man whose name was legend in the service. Master Chief Petty Officer "Lucky" Jack Wilks, Starfleet Security (retired).

"You understand the motto of Starfleet Security?"

" _Ever the First_ ," Peters replied sadly. "To put your lives in danger to protect the rest of the crew. To die so that others might live... and know what they are facing."

Wilks nodded. "I am a rarity," he said, as though she didn't know. "There are only a handful of retired security officers, and I was one of the few who served a full term, and aboard the  _Enterprise_ , no less. During my service, I lost three limbs outright and my left leg was paralysed. The crystal clear hearing in my right ear is my only remaining natural sense and I lost the capacity without ever knowing the love of another living being.

"I am, nonetheless, rightly considered fortunate, and I choose to share my luck. Your father, rest his soul, gave his life in the service of the Federation, and the League was set up to honour such sacrifice. As an orphan, yet not a minor, you are not due a military pension, and so the League will match the rate of your father's pension, as well as meeting your fees if you choose to attend Starfleet Academy."

"The Academy?" Sara was taken aback. "I was thinking of Starfleet Security, but..."

Wilks lacked the ability to smile, but something seemed to twinkle in his cybernetic visual receptors. "If your grades are good enough, and they are, we'll cover you, and even Security needs officers; good officers who truly care for their crew."

"Thank you, Chief," she said.

"Thanks are due to your father," he assured her. "To the other security crew and officers who pay their dues, to the ones with no-one to support who bequeath us legacies and endowments, and to the generosity of the command staff who acknowledge the debt they owe.

"Take your time," he said. "Grieve, and then decide. The League will be here."


End file.
